


people in high places

by owlickz



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, adaar siblings, gert adaar, gert is not inquisitor just a tag along little brother, he is also a little bother, tal-vashoth/vashoth culture, yasa adaar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlickz/pseuds/owlickz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yasa Adaar is a hard, angry woman who now finds herself the "Herald of Andraste". But it turns out, she's not an only child. </p><p>Series of related oneshots focusing on siblings, Yasa and Gert Adaar as they try to save the world without killing each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. younger brothers? more like, younger /bothers/

**Author's Note:**

> here's this thing, i'm gonna hopefully make more  
> i'm just really passionate about tal-vashoth culture and i wish it was explored in the game/lore

The day had been relatively calm.

Yasa had not threatened to string Cullen up by his bootlaces and Josephine was actually making progress with her on being more diplomatic. Many people commented that the Vashoth woman was always more calm in her presence, but the Antivan simply chalked that up to the fact she was not one of the people who interrogated the horned woman in the beginning. Josephine had Yasa reading over the letters she intended to send to various nobles who inquired about the qunari’s background, seeking approval before sending them out. The calmness of the room was suddenly disturbed by the door slamming open.

The diplomat jumped in surprise, knocking over a pot of ink with the sudden movement. Yasa’s eyes narrowed, glaring at the messenger as she moved to help the other woman move her papers out of the split ink’s path. “My Lady Herald!” they exclaimed, “Seeker Pentaghast sent me to get you at once! There is another qunari at the gates claiming to know you and refusing to leave.” Josephine watched as Yasa’s expression darkened, “Is that so?” her tone murderous, “Take me to this _qunari_.” The unfortunate messenger gulped and nodded, hurrying out of the room with the large woman hot on their heels. The diplomat felt her curiosity peaked, and decided to follow as well, asking a passing servant if they would kindly clean the ink mess on her desk as she hurried after the hulking woman.

\---

Cassandra stood just outside the gates with crossed arms and stern posture in front of a _very large_ qunari. He was quite easily larger than the Iron Bull mercenary Yasa had picked up a week earlier, but his composure and disposition seemed easy-going enough. The horned man was smiling easily at the Seeker, enjoying the disgruntled face she made at his comments. Josephine noticed the man had the exact same nose piercing as Yasa -- a golden ring that hung and mimicked what farmers did to their livestock, along with several rings in his pointed ears. Yasa only had her ears pierced in one place, but sported studs above and below her bottom lips. The Antivan had inquired about the piercing once, but only received the explanation of: “It’s a Tal-Vashoth thing.” His face was painted in the same pattern as Yasa’s, and his skin was the same darker grey. Upon studying the large man’s face carefully, she noticed he also had the same nose as Yasa. There was a large staff strapped to his back, indicating he was a mage.

Josephine watched as Yasa marched right up to the man and jabbed a sharp finger into his chest, “Go home. Now.” Her tone was terrifying and left no room for argument. The other qunari just grinned easily at her, ignoring the threat behind her words, “Ah, don’t you miss me? I’m hurt.” He asked in mock sincerity, placing a hand to his chest as if she had wounded him with her words. The Vashoth woman scowled at him, “No, I don’t. Go home.”

The male qunari continued to ignored her demands, bringing up a hand to inspect her uneven, jagged, horns. “Yas, what the hell happened here?” he asked, running a hand over the broken stubs of what apparently used to be much larger horns. The woman smacked his hand away, “A lot.” She replied curtly, “They broke at the Conclave.”  Josephine raised an eyebrow; she had no idea that the woman’s horns had been broken -- she had simply, or rather foolishly upon reflection, assumed they were cut in the rough asymmetrical fashion on purpose.

“Ah, Herald,” Cullen piped up, “Do you know this man?” Yasa glanced over at the Commander, “He is my younger brother -- Gert Adaar.” She informed, before turning her full attention back her sibling, “Go home.” She repeated. The man’s -- Gert’s -- face softened, “C’mon, Yas,” he muttered, “Don’t be like that.” The warrior woman huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. Gert put his hands up in surrender, “Look, our Kith came back to the Compound looking like shit, and so many were dead. Shokrakar told us about the explosion, and how you’re now the leader of an army of hairy eyeballs.” Yasa rolled her eyes, “I am not the leader.” She interjected.

Gert sighed heavily, “Ma and Da are worried about the rumors we've been hearing, so I volunteered to come see that you’re alright, and actually alive.” He explained. The woman was still impassive, “Well, I’m fine, so go home.” Gert rolled his eyes, “You could’ve sent a letter maybe,” he suggested, “Ma’s been wearing mourning vitaar for a month, certain you’re dead.” Yasa looked away from him, “I haven’t had time -- I’ve been busy.”  

“C’mon sis,” the large man pleaded, “You wouldn’t let me come with you to the temple, at least let me stay now.” Yasa bristled, “If I had let you come you’d probably be dead, idiot!” she exclaimed through gritted teeth. Gert winced at the implication, “I suppose you’re right, but still, let me stay.”

The woman began to whisper fervently to him in Qunlat, the word ‘Ben-Hassrath’ slipping out in the middle of her rant. Gert raised his eyebrows high, “Ben-Hassrath?” he echoed. She nodded, nodding her head toward where the Iron Bull stood near the stables and smithy. The mercenary leader -- spy -- was laughing heartily at something his lieutenant said, clapping the smaller man on the back. The younger Adaar sibling studied the Qunari for a minute before turning back to his sister, “He’s Ben-Hassrath, and he just _told_ you?” the Vashoth man asked incredulously.

Yasa’s eye narrowed sharply before continuing to rant quietly at him in Qunlat, no one surrounding them knowing whether or not she actually addressed his question. Gert gave a loud sigh as he argued _loudly_ back at his sister in their language. The loudness of the man’s voice caught the attention of the Iron Bull, who had perked up at the sound of his native tongue. Yasa noticed this and tried to silence her brother, hissing at him in their language as the Bull approached.

“Ah, I didn’t know you knew Qunlat, Yasa.” Bull stated, almost smugly, “Sounds a little different though.” He added, with a thoughtful look on his face. The woman wheeled on him, “There is a lot you don’t know about me or _my_ culture, Ben-Hassrath! And I intend to keep it that way.” She spat. The Iron Bull held his hands up in surrender, “Look, I wasn’t ordered to kill you or harm you, nor do I personally want to do that -- I’ve seen you cut a guy in half with one swing of a greatsword and it’s pretty terrifying.” Gert laughed, “Yeah, she used to scare and beat up all the other children in our Compound all the time.” the Bull laughed with him, “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“I’m Gert Adaar -- the nicer one.” He introduced, shaking the Iron Bull’s hand. “Gert.” Yasa warned lowly, for what seemed like the millionth time, “Go home.” The younger Adaar rolled his eyes at her, “Is that all you can say? ‘Gert, go home!’ or ‘Gert, don’t use magic! What if some outsider sees you!’?” He mimicked, pitching his voice to mock her’s, “Well, I can handle myself and I don’t need you to watch out for me.” Yasa had seemed to finally reach her boiling point, the mark on her hand flickering in reaction to her anger, “Fine!” she yelled, “Fine! Let them catch you! When they cut out your tongue, sew your mouth shut, and collar you like a dog don’t expect me to help you!” she gave him a hard shove on the chest and stomped away, smacking her shoulder against Bull’s as she went.

The group was silence for a moment before Cullen and Cassandra wandered back to their posts, while Josephine hurried off after Yasa. Only Bull and Gert were left; staring awkwardly in the direction the Vashoth woman had stormed off in. “She’s never going to trust you, y’know.” Gert finally said. Bull looked at the Vashoth, “I’m starting to suspect as much. Care to explain why?” The man sighed uneasily, “Our mother was a Tamassran and our father was a Saarebas under the Qun,” he explained, “When they left, they joined a compound of Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth in the Free Marches, one of the largest. Our Compound is made up of farmers, merchants, artisans, and mercenaries -- but the mercenaries are their own separate groups, not connected with any of the compounds directly.” The younger man explained. “No bandits, no raids, no random act of violence on travelers.” Iron Bull nodded, “The only Tal-Vashoth I’ve personally come across are the dangerous ones, but I know many others live as you do.”

Gert shrugged his massive shoulders, “Yeah, well, one night -- when we were little -- Ben-Hassrath raided the Compound and killed several people. No one is sure why they came in the first place; hunting someone is the assumption, but no one’s ever figured out who their target was. Our older sister died in the fighting; she had some martial training and was trying to help the others defend our homes. Honestly, I don’t remember much of that night, but Yas does and it’s always stuck with her, I guess.” Gert scratched at his chin, “Plus when my magic manifested, there was even more fear that we’d have another attack, either from Ben-Hassrath or the Templars -- though it never came -- but Yasa took it upon herself to be my _protector_.”

The younger Adaar studied Bull for a minute before continuing, “Look, I don’t know you or what your _real_ intentions are, but I consider myself a people-person and you don’t _seem_ like a bad guy.” This caused The Iron Bull to laugh, “Who’s to say? You’ve only just met me, kid.” Gert just shrugged, “Call it a feeling.” The two horned men were silent for a moment, watching Cassandra practically destroy a training dummy. “So, you gonna stay?” Bull eventually asked. Gert snorted, “Yeah,” he replied, “Yas will pout and throw a fit for a couple weeks but eventually get over it.” The Qunari nodded, “Right, well, you look like you could use a drink. How’s about you head to the tavern with me and my boys?” he suggested. Gert gave him a large lopsided grin, “Sound great, let’s go.”

\----

Josephine hurried after Yasa as she stomped through Haven. The qunari woman’s long legs and stride gave her an advantage in speed, leaving the Ambassador huffing and puffing behind her. Yasa stopped suddenly, causing the dark skinned woman to collide with her back. “Something you need, Ambassador?” the Vashoth asked as Josephine jumped back, her face flushing in embarrassment. “Yes, well, I can see that you’re upset and I was wondering if I could do anything to help.” Yasa turned to her, piercing violet eyes searching dark ones for an ulterior motive. The large woman breathed deeply through her nose, eyes slipping shut, “I just need to, clam down.” She eventually said, “Can we go back to your office? Listening to your voice is calming enough.” The Antivan flushed once more, “O-Of course Lady Adaar -- whatever you need.” Yasa just nodded, leading the way back into the Chantry.

Once inside Josephine’s office, Yasa slumped onto the bench in the corner of the room and leaned her head back against the wall. The broken, jagged end of what was left of her longer horn scraped against stone, causing both women to wince at the sound. “What would you like me to talk about?” Josephine inquired, not sure what about herself was worth telling to the warrior. Yasa just shook her head, “Anything, everything.” Was all she said before her eyes slipped closed. The woman began to describe her family with a shaky voice, eventually gaining more confidence and moving onto her childhood and what it was like growing up in Antiva. When Josephine told something particularly funny, the qunari woman would crack a smile, and when it was something ridiculous or serious the woman’s brow would furrow. Eventually Yasa’s eyes opened once more, just as Josephine was running out of childhood stories. “Thank you, Josephine.” She rasped, her voice deep and husky -- violet eyes dark in the candlelight.

The dark skinned woman found herself lacking words at the sight. Did Yasa know how beautiful she was? The woman wondered.

The horned woman stood, long arms reaching above her head as she stretched. “You’re welcome, my lady.” Josie eventually replied, once she stopped ogling the Vashoth before her, “I will be here whenever you need me.” A genuine smile rose to Yasa’s dark painted lips, “That’s good to know.” She replied approvingly, her voice still rough and husky. Josephine tried not to squirm in her chair; Maker, does this woman know what she does to her? “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Montilyet,” Yasa began, jarring the Antivan from her thoughts, “I must be going.” Josie nodded, “Of course, have a pleasant night.” She bid. The hulking woman accepted with a nod, “You as well.” She returned, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Josephine let out a long, shaky, sigh -- she was in trouble.

\----

Yasa relished in the feeling of cold air hitting her skin as she left the Chantry. Her head was still swimming, but her anger had faded. She should be able to have a somewhat civilized conversation with Gert –- well, as civilized as the two siblings got when they did not see eye-to-eye. As she passed by the small tavern, she heard a loud commotion followed by her brother’s bellowing laughter. She pushed open to door to reveal Gert and The Iron Bull leaning on each other’s shoulders, singing some loud, inappropriate tavern song. Around them, Bull’s men were laughing and clapping each other on the back as they joined in. Anger began to stir in her belly once more -- what was Gert thinking? There is a giant fucking hole in the sky, spewing out more and more demons each day it remained open, and here he was, getting drunk. Yasa stomped into the bar, a few of the Chargers noticing her and instantly quieting. The woman hauled her sibling up by his robes, “Do you think this is a fucking game?” she hissed, staring into almost identical purple eyes.

Bull stilled, watching as she pulled the larger man to his feet, “People are dying Gert!” she yelled, “And we’re the _only_ thing trying to keep the world from tearing itself apart!” The younger Adaar seemed to have sobered instantly, “Yas,” he tried, only to be cut off by her shoving her marked hand into his face, “Do you see this?” she hissed, “This thing that marks me -- makes me apparently _holy_ and _sent by Andraste?_ This thing, that almost _killed me_ in the beginning?!” Gert gently grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away so he could study the mark easier as she continued, “Does _this_ look like fun to you?!” she demanded, referring to the mark. Gert remained silent, staring at the pulsing green scar on her palm.

“Stay if you want,” she said after a minute, noticing all eyes in the tavern were on them, “You’re an adult and it’s time I started treating you as such,” she admitted grudgingly, “But this is serious and dangerous, and we have no time for undedicated people.” Yasa pulled her wrist free from his large hand, sparing at glance at The Iron Bull and his company before walking back out of the tavern.

Gert sank back onto his stool, shoulders slumped forward and head hung low. Bull eyed him for a moment before speaking, “She is right, you know.” The younger qunari turned his head to scowl up at him, the light catching on his large curling horns. “But, I can tell you’re dedicated to your family and kin, otherwise you wouldn’t have dragged your large grey ass to freezing Ferelden.” Gert cocked an eyebrow, “Oh, and how do you know that? You’ve only just met me.” Bull gave the other man a lopsided grin, lone eye twinkling with mirth, “Oh, let’s just say, _I’m a people-person_.”

\---

Two weeks later Bull found Yasa eating in the tavern. He sat down across from her, the chair groaning at his weight. The qunari woman looked up at him briefly, but then stared back down into her stew, completely content to ignore his existence when there were no demons to be slain. “Look,” he began, earning another brief glance, “I know you don’t like or trust me, and your brother explained why.” Her hand slammed against the table, “ _He did what?!_ ” she hissed, her mouth twisting into a snarl. The Qunari held up his hands in defense, “Just listen okay?” Yasa stared at him for a moment, violet eyes judging him silently before dipping her head in permission to continue. “Okay, so I put in some inquires with the Ben-Hassrath, no specific names or anything, just any information about the incident.” The woman nodded again, “And?” her voice barely heard above the noise from the other patrons. “And, I found out that the hit was accidental -- bad information and mixed reports.”

Yasa’s mouth dropped open, “Accidental?” she echoed, her voice hollow. The Iron Bull nodded, “There was a Tal-Vashoth who was going to sell secrets to Tevinter hiding out in the Free Marches. Your compound being the largest and most well-known of the Tal-Vashoth/Vashoth compounds was first on the list for recon. But somewhere along the line bad orders were made, information went sour.” Yasa gritted her teeth, “Is that supposed to make me _feel better_?” she snarled, “Make me forgive the Qunari and Ben-Hassrath for killing my sister and my people?!” Bull regarded her calmly, “No,” he replied, his tone even, “But, I thought you had the right to know.” And with that, the massive man rose from his seat and exited the tavern.

Gert was outside leaning on the wall next to the door as Bull left. “I heard everything,” the younger man said, “That was, well not _nice_ \-- the whole situation's anything but ‘nice’, but it was decent of you. To tell her, I mean.” The Qunari eyed him for a moment, “Thanks, kid.” Gert scowled and shook his head, “Not a ‘kid’, so stop calling me that,” he retorted, “But you’re welcome, I guess.” The Vashoth pushed himself off the building, “Wanna go set some training dummies on fire?” he invited with a half grin. Bull chuckled, “Sure, kid, but you’ll be the only one setting anything on fire -- y’know, being a mage and all.” Gert raised an eyebrow, “Not scared of mages are ya’ Bull? I know the Qunari are skittish about magic.” he prodded, wiggling his fingers comically. “Nah,” the other man replied dismissively, “Fought enough Vints to know you’re not as scary as you all try to be.” Gert laughed, “Scary? When have I ever tried to be scary? My sister and Cass are scary enough for the lot of us.”

Bull snorted, “You’re right about that, but ‘Cass’? Don’t let her hear you call her that, if you don’t want a few extra holes in your body.” Bull warned, flicking at one of the many rings in Gert’s ears.

The younger man just grinned, “It’s worth the risk.” He retorted with a wink.

\---

A week later Bull wandered out of his tent to find a paper wrapped package just outside. The man eyed the parcel carefully, looking over at Krem who just shrugged, “I dunno, Chief,” he said, “It was here before I got up.” The Qunari pulled the twine open with large fingers, watching the paper unfold itself to reveal a finely crafted dagger. Bull blinked in surprise, turning the weapon open and examining it in the early morning light. It was strong, sturdy, and _sharp_ \-- circling dragons intricately carved into the hilt. Overall, he decided after a moment of study, it was both beautiful and would be extremely effective. He stared at the dagger, frowning as he tried to decipher who would have left him such a gift. The loud strikes of hammer on anvil caught his ear, causing them to perk in that direction. He turned to see Yasa, as was normal, pounding away on the forge. The woman was extremely gifted in smithing, and crafted all her own armor and weapons.

And suddenly it hit him, like a maul to the head -- Yasa made the dagger. She was thanking him for the information he revealed to her, in her own way. The two were warriors, words meant little to them in these circumstances; but weapons, that meant everything. The Iron Bull could not stop the grin that stretched across his face as he turned back to Krem, who just gave him a confused look. “This is a ‘thank-you’ gift Krem,” the large man exclaimed, waving the dagger around, “And a damn fine one! Look, she carved _dragons_ into it! Dragons! Can you believe that! And you can actually _tell_ they’re dragons! That woman is damn talented.” He praised, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in Yasa’s direction.

His lieutenant took a step back away from the blade being waved around in his vicinity, “Yeah, sure Chief, that’s great. Just please don’t kill me with it.” Bull laughed before handing the dagger over to Krem so he could inspect it, “If that woman was into men, I would be all over that.” Bull said, almost dreamily. Krem cocked an eyebrow at him, “How do you know she’s not?” The Qunari shrugged and smiled, “I can just tell, plus she spends enough time with Josie for me to get the hint. I’d say the Herald is smitten with our Ambassador.”

Krem rolled his eyes, handing the dagger back the Bull, “If that’s the case, looks like there won’t be the pitter-patter of tiny qunari feet running around anytime soon then.” The man teased. The Iron Bull paled, “Don’t even joke about something like that, Krem.” He said, horrified. The soldiers laughed at his horror, “Oh calm down, you big lug. Take a joke.” Bull frowned at him, pointedly looking away, “Ah well, it’s still not funny.” Krem rolled his eyes again, “You’re so dramatic.” the former-Tevinter pointed out. The Qunari huffed, tucking the dagger into his belt. “You think if I’m really nice to her, she’ll make me some armor?” Bull asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Krem snorted, “I wouldn’t count on it Chief.”


	2. there are no puppy eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i forgot to mention last time that when i capitalize 'Qunari' i'm referring to those that actually follow the qun and when it's lowercase it's referring to the grey people with the horns  
> idk man you get me?

Josephine had been in her office when word had been received that Yasa was injured in the Hinterlands and was being rushed back to Haven. Honestly, the woman had almost knocked over another pot of ink at the news. “How bad are her injuries?” The Antivan all but demanded. Leliana gave her a measured look, something unreadable behind her eyes, “The message reported they had a run in with a couple bears,” Leliana revealed, “The Herald’s injuries were listed as a broken arm, sprained ankle, and possible concussion. Nothing, I’m sure, she can’t recover from; they’re likely just taking precautions.”

The Ambassador could not quell the sigh of relief that escaped her lips, “Blessed Andraste,” she breathed, “How soon are they expected to arrive?” The redhead pursed her lips, “I would say in the next couple of hours – they had already left yesterday before we received the message,” she guessed, “I have informed the healers and they’ve set up their supplies in her quarters.” Josephine rose from behind her desk, “I will be at the gates when they arrive.” She announced. Leliana gave her another odd look, “I’ve noticed you and the Herald have been spending a lot of time together.” It was a statement that left no room for Josephine to deny or backpedal. “Lady Adaar expressed a wish to become more acquainted with how to deal with nobility.” The Antivan woman replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

 It was not a lie, but it was far from the whole truth.

The Spymaster saw right through her, though, “Ah, of course, so the doe eyes are just a figment of my imagination.” Josephine flushed, “T-there are no doe eyes!” she sputtered indignantly, “I’ve have done no such thing!” Leliana’s lips drew into a thin smile, “I wasn’t talking about you.” The redhead stated, before leaving the room with a dumbfounded Ambassador staring after her.

\----

Josephine watch nervously as Gert’s large figure came into view.

The younger Adaar was carrying his sister on his back; Cassandra, Varric, and the Iron Bull were walking beside him. The Qunari was laughing loudly, apparently telling some ridiculous story that had Gert and Varric grinning from ear to ear. Yasa was scowling deeply, her chin resting on her brother’s shoulder. “Andraste’s tits!” the Tal-Vashoth woman growled, “Be quiet!” Bull just chuckled, “Not a chance, _Herald_.” he teased, causing the woman’s scowl to deepen, “Can’t take the risk of you falling asleep with that concussion.”

“You’re all being ridiculous,” she exclaimed angry, “I’m not a fragile maiden!” Gert snorted, “You’re _anything but_ a fragile maiden, Yas,” he stated, earning a sharp jab into his ribs from her knee, “But your arm’s broken, and I’m no healer.” Yasa snorted, “That, you aren’t,” she agreed, “You spent too much time learning fancy ways to set things on fire rather than practical healing magic.” The woman chided. Gert rolled his eyes, “I had no talent for it, ‘sides Da is a fine healer, and so is new his apprentice. Compound has enough healers, needs more mages trained in fighting.” The larger Tal-Vashoth stated. Yasa glowered, “Well, we’re _not in_ the Compound now, are we?” she hissed, earning an exaggerated eye roll from her younger brother.

Josephine smiled inwardly at the siblings banter as she walked forward to meet them. “Thank the Maker you’re alright!” she breathed, examining the bruises and cuts on Yasa’s face. The qunari woman held her gaze, violet eyes searching her own, “Of course I am; they’re just being idiots.” The Ambassador frowned, “They are look after your wellbeing, my lady,” she scolded, “I do hope you were not being reckless.” Yasa opened her mouth the answer but was cut off by Cassandra, “It was my fault,” the Seeker admitted, “I got us cornered, and it caused Yasa to fall off the cliff.” Josephine gasped, horrified, “You fell off a cliff!? Why wasn’t that in your message?!” she demanded, staring the large woman square in the eye. Yasa shifted her gaze, having good sense to appear sheepish, “It wasn’t that large of a drop – it’s not a big deal.”

The Ambassador frowned at her, “ _‘Not that big of a deal’_?” she repeated angrily, “Lady Adaar, falling off a cliff, no matter the height, is what I would consider a _‘big deal’_!” Josephine stated in frustration, “Especially if it caused you to break your arm and have a possible concussion!” Yasa did not answer, instead choosing to look off to the side as if she was trying to ignore the lecture.

Gert quickly intervened before Josie could continue in her rant, “Maybe Cass should stop trying to take on every bear we come across.” The man teased, causing the Seeker to flush with anger, “I did not go looking for a fight, qunari. And address me by my full name.” she seethed, which only caused him to grin more at her. Cassandra snarled and threw up her hands, “You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” Varric laughed, “Finally, someone has taken my place.” The dwarf chimed in. The shorthaired woman wheeled on him, “Quiet.” She barked, jabbing a threatening finger in the small man’s direction.

Bull laughed, “Well, you’ve all got this covered,” he said, “I’m gonna go do some well-deserved drinking.” The Qunari stated, sauntering off towards the tavern. “I’m going with Tiny – he has the right idea.” Varric announced, following after the much larger man. Cassandra just rolled her eyes, giving a nod to Yasa and then wandering off to presumably take out her frustration on a practice dummy.

“The healers have set themselves up in your quarters, my lady.” Josie explained once their companions all left, eyes still locked on Yasa, “Master Gert, if you would be so kind as to take your sister there.” The large man smiled down at her, “Of course, _Lady Montilyet_ , it’d be my _pleasure_.” He said with mock nobility, earning another sharp knee in the side. “Quit doing that.” He grumbled, shifting the woman’s weight on his back as he began to walk. “Then stop being a fool.” She countered coolly, glancing at Josephine as she was carried away.

\----

Later that night, Josephine entered the small shared cabin of the Adaar siblings. Yasa was resting on her bed, sitting up against wall with closed eyes. Gert’s presence was lacking, to which Josephine most likely assumed that the man was either in the tavern or bothering Cassandra. Annoying the Seeker had become a favorite pastime for the larger Tal-Vashoth.

Yasa’s arm was splinted and bound, hanging in a sling tied around the back of her neck. The woman’s armored boots had been removed and her ankle was wrapped tightly to apply pressure on the sprain. Josephine walked quietly towards the bed, unsure if the woman was actually asleep or not.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Yasa suddenly said, revealing herself to be awake. The Antivan woman frowned, studying the bruising on her face once more, “Someone has to worry over you if you don’t do it yourself.” She stated, sitting down gracefully on a stool next to the bed.

Yasa cracked an eye open, looking at the other woman briefly before shutting it again, “I’ve had worse than this.” She brushed off. The human pursed her lips, “Yes, well, before you weren’t the deemed savior of Thedas.” Josephine argued. The large woman frowned, opening both eyes to look at her, “Is that the only reason you care?” she probed, her tone guarded. “Because I’m some messiah to a bunch of people who want me dead?” she spat. Josephine felt herself soften, “Of course not, my lady,” she explained gently, “I personally would not wish for harm to come upon you -– I feel as though we’ve grown close and I would call you a friend.” Yasa looked shocked at the revelation, “Friend?” she echoed, rolling the word around in her mouth as though it was foreign to her. The Ambassador chuckled, “Yes, _friend_ , my lady.” She repeated.

The Tal-Vashoth looked away from Josephine and out the nearest window, “I’ve never really had friends,” she admitted quietly, “Comrades and family yes, but not friends. People just usually avoided me if they could.” The human woman frowned, “That’s horrible!” she declared loudly, causing Yasa to whip her head back towards her. Josephine folded her arms across her chest, “I find your company quite enjoyable.” She stated assuredly. The large woman tilted her head slightly, amused at the Antivan’s sudden outburst, “It doesn’t bother me,” Yasa replied casually, “I usually prefer to keep to myself – even when I was a child. Plus outside the compound I grew up in, the horns are usually off putting for most folk.”

The Ambassador shook her head and took the woman’s uninjured, free hand, “I do mean it though,” she stressed, “About enjoying your company.” The older Adaar sibling _almost_ smiled, “Thank you, Lady Montilyet,” her voice a rumble in her chest, “I enjoy yours as well.” Josephine felt heat rise to her cheeks as Yasa’s hand curled around hers with a squeeze. She could feel the callouses on the warrior’s palm and fingers brush warmly against her soft, unworked skin. The intimate touch was over all too quickly as the qunari releases her hand and pulled away.

Josie stood abruptly, “I should let you rest.” she stated, turning heel towards the door. “Lady Montilyet?” Yasa called, causing her to stop just before the door. The Ambassador turned to look over her shoulder, her cheeks still flushed, “Y-yes, my lady?” The Vashoth woman was silent for a moment, regarding her carefully with an intense violet gaze, “Perhaps tomorrow we could have lunch, just the two of us.” She suggested; her tone guarded, as if waiting for rejection. Josephine felt a shiver of delight run down her spin, and found herself unable to suppress the large smile forming on her lips, “That would be lovely.” She agreed. Yasa nodded, “Alright, I will meet you in your office.”

“Goodnight, my lady.” Josie bid warmly, walking out into the cold nighttime air.

\----

Gert had been walking back from the tavern when he spied Josephine leaving his and Yasa’s shared cabin. He was surprised that the tiny woman still had all her limbs – for Yasa had forcefully kicked him, the healers, and the servants out as soon as she could shortly after their arrival back at Haven. The Antivan was almost, _glowing_ and walked with a spring in her step.

Apparently their conversation had gone well.

The large man let out a low rumbling laugh – what a pair those two made. He was glad someone was taking an actually interest in his sister. Despite their disagreements, he still cared for her and her wellbeing. Yasa needed someone to open up to –- someone that would stay and break down her carefully constructed walls. The woman had practically been alone her entire life, aside from their family.

When she was 13, Yasa revealed to them that she preferred girls. The young qunari said it as though she was commenting on the weather – not ashamed or afraid for their reaction, for it was simply a fact. Their mother had nodded, “I see.” Was all the woman had said, setting a loaf of sliced bread down on the table for them to snack on. Their father signed his understanding, going back to skimming over a tome as he munched on bread. Gert had laughed, “No wonder you scare off all the boys!” and received a kick from under the table. “Yasa,” their mother had scolded, “Don’t kick your bother.” The young Yasa had stuck her tongue out at him, which earned a disapproving look from their father. And that was all that was ever said on the matter –- aside from their mother asking when Yasa was ever going to bring a nice girl home.

Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth culture was about freedom.

Freedom to choose who you love, your occupation, and your own path in this life –- freedom the Qun had denied them. Their culture was rich and lively, though no other races -– mainly humans –- ever cared to stick around and see it for themselves. Tal-Vashoth are thought of as mindless beasts, called Qunari by those ignorant of the difference.

Gert opened the cabin door slowly, noting that Yasa was lying on her uninjured side facing the wall as he entered. Slow steady breaths indicated she was sleeping, to which Gert was thankful. He crept quietly through their shared quarters, undressing for bed and slipping under scratchy blanket. He shifted until he was comfortable, laying his head in a way that allowed him to sleep with his large spiraling horns.

The man stared up at the ceiling for a while before his eyes felt heavy, sparing one more glance at his sister before slipping into the fade. 


	3. just friggin' kiss already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gert and solas talk about magey stuff, while yasa struggles with her inner demons and her big fat crush on josie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i took some liberties on tal-vashoth culture  
> Ataash-Issala is based on Holi 
> 
> tal-vashoth culture is so important tho

“You are a mage then?”

Gert had been dosing against one of the buildings next to the apothecary’s hut when a voice came from in front of him. The man let out a large yawn, stretching bulky arms above his head, “Mm, yup.” he replied, noting that it was his sister’s bald elf companion –- Solas -- standing in front of him. “What of it?”

The other man was studying him, almost intensely –- and honestly Gert found it a little unsettling.

“Forgive me, it is just I have not met a qunari mage before.” The elf said apologetically. Gert grinned at him, “Hey, no problem,” he assured, “Just don’t let my sister hear you callin’ us ‘Qunari’, and mean it –- she takes the Tal-Vashoth thing very seriously.” Solas arched an eyebrow, “And you don’t?” The large man shrugged, “I mean, I get that people -– especially here in the South –- don’t understand the difference. To most folks we’re just some big grey giants with horns growing out of our heads and to them that means ‘Qunari’.”

“Ah.” Solas said in understanding. Gert shrugged again, “It just gets tiring trying to explain the difference all the time to people who don’t care.” He explained. The elf took a seat beside him on an unoccupied crate, “So I assume you learned magic from your people then, and not in a Circle.” Gert nodded once more, “Yup.” He replied, “My Da, specifically.” The elf glanced up at him, “The Herald mentioned your father was a mage; that he escaped from the Qun with your mother.” The Tal-Vashoth made a sound of affirmation, “Yeah, he was a Saarebas.”

“ _’Saarebas’_?” he echoed, “That is the term for Qunari mages then?” the elf queried. The larger man let out at sigh, “In Qunlat it means ‘dangerous thing’.” He translated. Though Gert never showed, or mentioned it, the topic of Saarebas made him extremely uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of what could have happened to him in another life. But the elf next to him had an expression full of curiosity, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. It’s not like the man could go read about it in a book somewhere -– Qunari did not let out their traditions and information to _Bas_.

“Qunari born without horns are a bit of a superstition, like that they’re dangerous or meant to be feared. So Saarebas’ horns are shaved down to warn people of the ‘danger’.” He paused, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the practice of having their mouths sewn shut and then collared to be controlled by a handler.”

Solas nodded, “I have indeed,” he affirmed, “I had hoped it was merely exaggeration.” Gert shook his head, “It’s not, but even that’s not the worst of it.” He let out another long sigh, “Saarebas who are caught practicing ‘forbidden magic’ tongues are cut out.” Gert explained, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. To Solas’ credit, the elf did not gasp in horror as he had expected, but his face was twisted in something between rage and sympathy. “My Da,” Gert went on, “Was one of those unlucky mages.”

“I’m sorry.” The elf empathized, but Gert waved him off, “He escaped with my Ma, though that was long after they took his tongue –- or so I was told. He communicated through signing with his hands –- something the Saarebas had developed under the Qun -- because tongue or no tongue, speaking in general usually got them into trouble.” Gert began moving his fingers and hands rapidly into precise forms as a demonstration, “There are several like him in the Compound, so mostly everyone knows how to sign.” Solas watched his fingers with interest, “Fascinating,” he breathed, “I never would have suspected such a thing to arise from such a people.” Gert just snorted at him, “What that’s supposed to mean? You think we’re all savages who bathe in the blood of our enemies?” he teased, grinning at the guilty expression on the elf’s face. “I meant no disrespect.” Solas apologized, only to be waved off but Gert again.

“You should come to the Compound during Ataash-Issala. You’d love it.” The Tal-Vashoth stated. Solas quirked a brow, “Ataash-Issala?” he echoed in curious tone. Gert grinned again, “Literal translation would be ‘Glory Dust’ –- it’s a holiday were we throw colored powders onto each other. A huge four day celebration for Tal-Vashoth compounds to celebrate freedom from the Qun.” Solas looked even more amazed, “You have your own holidays?” Gert shrugged his massive shoulders, “Yeah, course we do. Holidays, rituals, vitaar,” he listed, “Even the Qunlat we speak has evolved from what the Qunari speak -- which is why Bull has some trouble understanding Yas when she goes into a full on rant at him.”

Solas chuckled, “She’s been warming up to him a bit, but I suspect she will never fully trust him.” Gert yawned, “You suspect correctly.” he replied, scratching at the stubble on his chin, “So long as he remains a Qunari she’ll never fully trust him.” Solas nodded and stood, “Thank you for talking with me,” the elf said appreciatively, “You’ve given me a lot of rethink on qun- I mean, Tal-Vashoth.” Gert smiled easily, “Anytime.” He said nonchalantly. The elf dipped his head and wandered off.

Gert let out another loud yawn, noticing Yasa approaching him now. “Sister.” He greeted. Her face was drawn into its usual scowl, “I can’t stand all this sitting around.” She groused. Gert rolled his eyes, “The healers don’t want to going out while the bone in your arm is still freshly healed.” The large woman huffed and plopped down on the crate Solas had just been previously occupying. The Adaar sibling sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the sounds of Haven drifted around them. It was Yasa who eventually spoke, “I am surprised you’re not bothering the Seeker.” She observed, “It seems to be something you enjoy doing in you spare time.”

The younger Adaar gave her a lazy grin, “I was earlier, but she chased me away; threatening to ‘cut me down where I stood’.” He quoted. It was Yasa’s turn to roll her eyes, “Incredible.” she muttered, shaking her head. Gert leaned back against the building, folding his arms, “I’ve been writing with Ma and Da,” he revealed, “They’re a bit upset have haven’t written to them yet.” Yasa looked pointedly away from him, her scowl deepening, “I’ve been busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

The younger Adaar frowned at her, “Yeah, you’ve been busy alright, but there’s been more than enough time to actually tell them you’re alive. Y’know, instead of hearing it secondhand from me and a bunch of strangers.” A growl escaped the Tal-Vashoth woman’s lips, “What do expect me to tell them?” she ground out between clenched teeth, “That I’m now some holy figure of a religion we don’t believe in?” Gert shrugged, “You tell them the truth.” He said simply, “Everything that’s happened -– from start to finish, well to _now_ , I guess. I doubt we're anywhere close to being finished with this mess.”

Yasa clenched and open her fist, watching the mark scaring her palm flair to life, “It’s not that easy.” The larger of the two snorted, “Of course it is,” Gert countered, “They’ll believe you.” Yasa continued to stare at the pulsing green light radiating from her hand, “Whether or not they believe me is not the issue.” She muttered. Gert raised an eyebrow, “Then what _is_ the problem?” he probed. She snarled at him, “The fucking _problem_ is that I don’t know what to believe or think about any of this myself!” she yelled, throwing her hand down to her side, “How am I supposed to make them understand when _I_ don’t!” Gert stayed silent, watching her face twist in a flurry of anger. “I’ve let them down enough,” she finally muttered, “I don’t need _this_ to be added to the list.” She said, sweeping her hand around in reference to the Inquisition.

“Yas, they’re nothing but proud of you!” Gert exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration, “Why would you think otherwise?” She lowered her head, smoothing a hand over her bound hair -– fingernails scraping against one of her broken horns, “They told me not to become a mercenary.” She revealed, “Mother cried to she found out, saying she didn’t want to lose another daughter to violence.” Yasa glanced up at him, “And I know it tore them even more when you followed after me.”

Gert placed a large hand on her shoulder, “Yas they may not agree with our chosen lifestyle, but they _are_ proud of us.” The woman shrugged him off but he continued, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his coat, “Read this.” He said, pushing the paper into her hands. Yasa glared at him briefly, but unfolded the parchment. Her eyes moved over its contents in rapid movements; face twisting into a variety of expressions. “ _‘Let Yasa know we’re proud of her and miss her’,_ ” she read aloud _,_ “ _‘From the stories people are telling, she and you are both doing great things with this Inquisition. Please have her write us soon. Love, Ma and Da.’_ ”

Gert watched his sister clench and unclench her fingers, gripping the letter tightly and wrinkling it in the process. She stood abruptly, shoving the parchment back into his large hands, “I have to go.” She stated curtly, her armor clanging together as she all but ran away. Gert watched her leave; his eyebrows raised high in confusion.

\----

Josephine had been finishing an extremely flourished request to a comtesse from a minor noble family of Orlais. This particular family owned several iron mines, to which Josephine was hoping to negotiate a trade for the raw ore. There was a knock on her door just as she was placing her pen back into the inkpot. “Come in.” she called, waving her hand over the letter in a futile effort to make the ink to dry faster. The Ambassador was not at all surprised when Yasa came through the door. “Lady Montilyet?” The large woman began, her husky voice sending a shiver down her spine, “Do you have a moment?” The Antivan smiled, for she had been secretly hoping the Tal-Vashoth would come by all day, “Of course,” she replied, “Just waiting on this ink to dry.” She stated, gesturing to the parchment on the desk before her.

 Yasa nodded, stepping fully into the room, “I was wondering if I could borrow some parchment? And some ink and a quill as well?” Josephine tilted her head in curiosity, “Of course,” she said, pulling out a piece of blank parchment and a spare quill, “May I ask what for?” She watched as Yasa bit back a defensive remark, one she was sure that the qunari had no problems giving to anyone else. But, as it seemed, the horned woman had a soft spot for her; much the same sort of soft spot Josie held for her in return. “It is a…personal matter. I need to write my parents.” She explained, fidgeting uncomfortably. Josephine offered a gentle smile, “Oh I see,” she said, reaching down to pull out a spare inkpot, “I hope they are well.” The Vashoth reached up to scratch nervously at the skin on the base of her horns, “I do too,” she muttered, “My brother has been in contact with them, but I have not personally written to them.”

 Josephine nodded in understanding, “You have been quite busy as of late,” she offered, “I’m sure they understand.” Yasa frowned, though it was not directed as Josie, “I’m sure they will,” she grumbled, “I’m just not sure what to say to them –- Gert has more or less explained what happened at the Conclave and what we’ve been doing with the Inquisition. Plus they’ve apparently heard stories of our exploits from traders they’ve encountered.” The qunari woman was silent for a moment, clearly pondering over her next words. “Your parents, are they proud of you?” she suddenly asked, the personal nature of the question throwing the Antivan off-guard.  But Josephine recovered quickly, noticing Yasa was looking quite uncomfortable. “I believe they are,” Josie finally said, “They’ve said it many times, and I feel as though they mean it.”

Yasa nodded slightly, accepting her answer.

“May I ask what brought this on?” the smaller woman inquired. Yasa gave her a studying look before turning her attention elsewhere, “In our culture, family is everything.” The horned woman explained. “Qunari culture?” Josephine inquired. It seemed to take all of Yasa’s self-control not to snap at her, instead settling for giving her a slight scowl, “No, Tal-Vashoth culture,” she corrected, “There are no families under the Qun –- and because of that, family is very important among us.” Josephine gave an understanding nod, “Ah, I see. I apologize.” Yasa waved away her apology; which Josephine was beginning to notice was an Adaar-thing. “It’s fine,” she said softly, “I just don’t like to be called Qunari.”

Josephine stood from her desk, “Are you afraid your parents aren’t proud of you, my lady?” she asked, sensing this is where the conversation was heading.

Yasa fidgeted some more, “They say they are, but I feel like haven’t led the life they wanted for me.” Josephine moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on the larger woman’s arm, “I don’t know everything about you, or your past,” she began, feeling the woman tense up under her touch, “But everything I’ve seen from you as been honorable and would make any parent proud.” Yasa relaxed, audibly exhaling the breath she had been holding. The Tal-Vashoth turned to face her suddenly, causing Josephine to flush as she suddenly realize their closeness and having to tilt her head back to look Yasa in the eye. The Ambassador swallowed thickly, feeling dwarfed under the large woman’s intense violet gaze, “You say these things, and they always manage to make me feel at ease -– even when there’s a storm raging in my head.” The qunari admitted, almost timidly.

Josephine flushed harder as Yasa raised a hand to cup her cheek; the roughness of her palm scratching against her soft skin. “I-I just do my best, my lady.” She stammered. The horned woman’s lips curled into an amused smile, “Thank you.” She said softly, guiding her thumb along the line of her cheekbone. Josephine’s breath hitched, her eyes darting towards Yasa’s lips. The taller woman followed her gaze, her lips curling once more as she began to move her face closer to Josephine’s.

“Josie, you need to see this.” Leliana’s voice broke the spell cast over them. Yasa quickly pulled back, creating a respectable distance between them as the Spymaster strode into the room, her face buried in documents she held. The redheaded woman looked up expectantly when she got no reply, “Joise?” she question. The Ambassador cleared her throat, “Y-yes, of course. What is it?” She replied, tripping over her words -- cheeks still flushed. Leliana frowned, looking from her to Yasa, who was current collecting the supplies Josephine had laid out earlier. She nonchalantly tucked the parchment under her arm, hold the inkpot and quill with one large hand. “Am I interrupting something?” Leliana asked, her tone light, almost amused. Josephine frowned, “Lady Adaar was just asking to borrow some paper and a quill for a personal letter.” She explained, watching as Leliana cocked a finely groomed brow at her. “Oh, I see.” She answered, obviously not believing the Ambassador for one second.

Josephine scowled at her, wanting to throttle the woman.

“Thank you,” Yasa said, taking long strides towards the door, “I shall return these when I am finished.” She stated, gesturing to the quill and ink her held. When Yasa was a safe distance away, Leliana’s lips turned into a full on smirk, “So, I _was_ interrupting something.” Josephine folded her arms in a defiantly manner, “Nonsense, now what have you brought?” The redhead rolled her eyes, obviously finding this whole situation unbelievable.


	4. stupid fucking fallow mire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josie learns a little more about tal-vashoth culture and the fallow mire happens

“Lady Adaar, there is a matter we must discu- Dear Maker!”

Upon entering the small hovel shared by the Adaar siblings, Josephine was greeted with the sight of Yasa dressed only in her smalls. The dark-grey woman was kneeling on the floor in front of a mirror with an assortment of jars spread around her. Josephine averted her eyes quickly, “O-oh pardon me! I am so sorry!” she stuttered, completely flustered. The Tal-Vashoth gave her an odd look, “You act as though you’ve never see another woman in their smallclothes.” she observed, clearly amusement at the situation. The Ambassador cleared her throat, inwardly scowling at the pleasure Yasa took for her embarrassment. “Yes, well,” she began, steadying her voice, “I was just, not expecting it. I truly am sorry for intruding –- I shall knock from now on.” She vowed.

A laugh rumbled from the other woman’s chest, “You humans and your ‘modesty’.” She teased lightly, standing to slip a tunic over her head and pulling on a pair of ratty trousers before kneeling again before her mirror. Josie, who was still trying to fan the flush from her cheeks, watched the larger woman curiously. “May I ask what you’re doing?” The Antivan inquired respectfully. Yasa smiled lightly at the politeness in her question, “I am applying my vitaar.” she explained, dipping one finger into a jar, “It can be messy, which is why I was unclothed.” Josephine nodded her understanding, watching as the Vashoth drew a line from her bottom lip to the end of her chin, carefully minding the pierced stud, “Ah that make sense.” The Antivan said lamely, transfixed as she watched the larger woman draw intricate patterns on her face.

Yasa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, “Come, sit,” she invited, “And tell me what’s happened now.” Josephine nodded dumbly, pulling a nearby stool next to the kneeling woman. The two sat in silence for a moment as Josie watched the other woman work with practiced diligence. “Does it mean anything?” the Ambassador queried finally, gesturing to the woman’s painted face. Violet eyes flickered to look at her in the mirror, “Yes –- all Tal-Vashoth vitaar have a meaning.” She replied, returning her attention to her delicate work. Josie chewed her bottom lip, “Would it be rude of me to ask what yours means?” she asked delicately. This time the qunari did not paused in her motions as she answered, “This design is a variation of ‘Pride In Self’.” She explained as she carefully drew a line around side of her nose to under her eye, “I am representing having respect for myself and abilities, which also doubles as a warning to those who would be my enemies.”

Josephine nodded, “Ah, I see. Is vitaar only for battle then?” Yasa shook her head, “No,” she replied as she used her nail to scrape of an excess smear, “There are specific ones for weddings, ceremonies, and mourning -- things like that.” She elaborated.  Josie smiled warmly at her, “I must say, Lady Adaar, your culture sounds absolutely fascinating. I would love to see is firsthand one day.” Yasa froze, looking wide-eyed through the mirror at the woman sitting next to her, “T-thank you.” She stuttered before quickly regaining her normal stoic composure, “But surely you did not come just to discuss Tal-Vashoth customs.” She redirected, seeming determined to change the subject. Josie pursed her lips; clearly the qunari woman was bothered by something she had said. Josephine wanted to address the sudden redirection of the conversation, but she knew it was best to keep quiet on the matter for now.

Josephine shook her head, a regretful smile on her lips, “Ah, I did not,” she confirmed, “There is a matter I need to inform you of.” The Ambassador looked down at her papers, shifting through the pile for the correct document before speaking. “Leliana’s agents have reported that the rebel mages have, quite literally, disappeared from Redcliff.” She saw Yasa frown in her reflection on the mirror, “How can that many people vanish without a trace? Was no one watching them?” The smaller woman sighed wearily, “That is the problem -– we had several agents posted there. They all described it as: ‘one day they were all there and the next morning, nothing’.”

The qunari let out a huff, reaching for a differently shaped jar and small thin-tipped brush, “They’re still looking?” she inquired, dipping the brush into the jar, revealing its contents to be the black paint the woman used on her lips. Josie nodded, watching Yasa trace the delicate lines of her lips with the brush with a steady hand, “Yes, but I have a strong feeling we aren’t going to find them.”

The Tal-Vashoth looked at her through the mirror once more but said nothing, returning her attention to her applying the lip-paint. Josephine looked down at her papers, “That was not the only matter,” she began again, “That strange boy has been making people uneasy –- some people don’t even know who he is after they’ve been seen speaking with him.” Yasa let out a sigh, wiping her hands on a ratty, stain rag, “I’ll talk to him.” She assured, “Though I’m surprised he’s not here now –- the boy has been following me around since her got here.”

The Antivan looked at her curiously, “Really? Whatever for?” Yasa rolled her eyes, “Void if I know,” she growled, “It’s getting bloody irritating though – he won’t stay out of my head. He keeps talking on and on about things that aren’t _any_ of his business.” Josephine ‘hmm’ed in understanding, “I think he means well but doesn’t understand boundaries. We’re still not sure what exactly he _is_. First Enchanter Vivienne insists he is a demon, but Solas argues strongly against her.” Yasa scowled, “Those two would argue the color of the sky if you let them.” she stated, obviously irritated by the two mages constant bickering, “All I know is that I’m going to throw him into the lake if he keeps it up.”

Josephine found herself giggling, “Ah, the Herald of Andraste throwing a helpless boy into frozen waters. That’ll help our reputation.” Yasa glared at the smaller woman, though it held none of its usual venom, “Well, maybe a helpless Ambassador will be joining him.” She threatened in mock seriousness. Josephine gasped in pretend horror, “Lady Adaar! You wound me.” She exaggerated, dramatically placing a hand to her chest. Yasa gave her a grin that was all teeth, “Don’t tempt me, Lady Montilyet.” She teased in a husky voice. The other woman froze, trying to suppress the jolt of desire that shot up her spine, “I-uh, I-” she struggled, stumbling over her words.

The door to the small cabin was pushed open again, “Yas, you almost done? We’ve gotta get moving.” The younger Adaar practically whined, ducking to avoid smacking his forehead against the doorframe. The other Vashoth’s good humor was replaced by annoyance and seriousness, “Yes, I’m almost done,” she snapped, glaring at him, “Stop whining -– it makes you sounds like a child.” The woman added, scolding the man. Gert just rolled his eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah.” he muttered, flicking a rude gesture in her direction as his exited the hovel.

The larger woman let out a sigh, glancing over at her armor which was stacked against the wall, “I’m afraid I have to be leaving.” Josephine gave her an encouraging smile, “Ah it’s no problem,” she reassured, “Be safe on your travels.” She bid. The large woman dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Thank you, Lady Montilyet,” she replied, “I will try to return unscathed, if only per your request.” Josephine smiled once more at the woman and exited the cabin.

\----

The party returned one week later smelling of swamp and decay. Sera was complaining loudly about ‘how her friggin’ feet were still swimmin’ in her  friggin’ shoes’ as the other’s faces were plastered with scowls. The three advisors greeted them as they entered Haven. Sera and Bull slipped away quickly as Yasa was bombarded with news and further assignments she had missed. Gert was impressed at how gracefully his sister was taking this -– mainly because graceful was _defiantly_ not an adjective used when describing Yasa Adaar. The word was just too delicate to attribute to such a rough individual. The wind began to pick up, blowing up from behind the two Tal-Vashoth and bringing their stench into the advisor’s noses. Josephine coughed, attempting to dispel the stink but blowing heavy breaths out of her nostrils.

“Maker’s tears you both smell foul!” Cullen blurted out, covering his nose with his hand. Josephine’s mouth dropped open at the man’s rudeness, while actually Leliana looked rather amused. Yasa’s face twisted into a rather terrifying glare, “Yes, I am aware,” she hissed, “I just spent a week in a disease filled swamp.” Cullen looked away ashamed, “I-I apologize.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Leliana was still trying not to laugh, “Perhaps we can arrange for an actual bath.” She suggested, still attempting to stifle her laughter, “For you two, and Sera and the Iron Bull as well.” Yasa looked slightly relieved and nodded, obviously wanting to be rid of the stench that had seemingly seeped its way into every part of her. Gert laughed, “I’ll go tell them.” He offered, walking towards the tavern where he knew they would be lurking. Leliana turned to Yasa, “I shall have someone fetch you when arrangements have been made.”

\----

Yasa sank into the large round tub, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

The hot water pleasantly warmed her skin, warding away the cold that had made a home in her bones. Sera stepped into water across from her, making her appreciation more verbal. “Friggin’ fantastic!” she practically cheered, “The Nightingale really knows how to get shite.” Yasa cracked open an eye, glancing at the lithe elf lounging against rim on the other side of the tub. Sera leaned over the side, pulling up a large vial of purple-colored liquid. A cheeky grin settled in her face, “I nicked this from Madame de Tight-arse,” she explained giddily, “Fancy, _expensive,_ bath oil that’ll make us _not_ smell like rotten shite.” The blonde pulled out the stopper, pouring a generous into the steaming water. 

The qunari relaxed further at the soothing scent of lilacs engulfed her senses, closing her eyes once more. After a moment of silence Sera spoke up, “So, I’ve a question for you _Oh Lady Herald_.” Yasa grunted in response, giving the other woman permission to go on. Even with eyes closed the Vashoth knew a shit-eating-grin was forming on the elf’s face as she let out giggles, “There’s a rumor that you’ve got it sweet for Lady Prissy-pants.” The larger woman opened one eye, “That’s not a question.” She pointed out. Sera rolled her eyes dramatically, “Right, whatever,” she dismissed, “It is true or not yeah?” Yasa straighten her posture, opening both eyes to look at the smaller woman critically, “And if it’s true?” she challenged. Sera held up her hands in a placating gesture, “I don’t care who ya’ fancy,” she stated, “I just wanted to know it was true.”

Yasa sank back down into the water, “I doesn’t matter,” she said dejectedly, “Josephine is too good for someone like me.” Sera scoffed, “Right, too good for the Herald of Andraste? Good one.” Sera rolled her eyes, “Why cause she’s a fancy noble and you’re not? None the shite matters!” she exclaimed, “From what I heard she fancies you too -- so go for it, stupid.” Yasa cracked an almost-smile, “I think it’s considered blasphemy to call Andraste’s Herald ‘stupid’.” The qunari teased. Sera scoffed once more, “Bugger off you.” she said, splashing some water in the Tal-Vashoth’s direction. Yasa sat up, reaching over to push the blonde’s head under the water. Sera came back up sputtering and cursing at her, “Oh you big arsehole!” she swore, jumping onto Yasa as she attempted to do the same. The qunari let out a full-fledged laugh as the elf crawled over her in an attempt to dunk her, “It’s not going to happen.” Yasa stated, still laughing. Sera blew a raspberry at her, “Fuck! It will too! I’ll friggin’ get you!”

A loud knock on the door interrupted their playing, “Hey, you two almost done in there?” asked Bull from the other side of the door. “Yeah, seriously hurry up.” Gert added, his voice slightly more muffed, indicating he was probably standing somewhere behind the Qunari. “Blow it out your arse!” Sear yelled at them, detaching herself from Yasa and exiting the tub. The larger grey woman laughed quietly this time, shaking her head as she stepped out of the water. The women quickly dressed, opening the door to revealed Gert and the Iron Bull waiting impatiently outside in the cold. Sera closed her fist, moving it quickly up and down in a rude gesture in the directed of the two men as she passed. Yasa tried not to smile at the elf’s antics, making her way to her shared cabin.

Yasa was relieved that someone had started a fire in the hearth while she was away, soaking in its warmth. She threw her soiled, smelly clothes into the corner -– knowing they would have to probably been burned anyways. There was a chance that the plague and any manner of diseases from the Fallow Mire could have attached themselves to the fabric –- so they would be burned at a precaution. “Stupid fucking swamp.” She cursed, lying face down on her bed in defeat.


	5. in which the adaar sibling are still loverstruck losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gert flirts, cass defects, and yasa has a freak-out over glittery vitaar

“You’re kinda a force of nature aren’t cha?” Gert observed, watching Cassandra annihilate the wooden dummy before her. The Seeker snorted in response, bringing her sword down in a wide stroke to slash against the dummy’s stuffed middle. The qunari man grinned, “Impressive.” The woman stood up from her stance, facing the man with a cocked eyebrow, “I assume you have some purpose here, other than to compliment me.” She stated, appearing to be unimpressed. Gert smiled easily at her, “Not really,” he replied nonchalantly, attempting to be smooth, “Just wanted to tell you how amazing your skills are.” Cassandra looked back at the dummy, attempting to hide how flustered she was becoming, “You’re being too kind.” she insisted, “Besides, you are a mage -- what knowledge of swordsmanship do you actually possess?”

The Tal-Vashoth shook his head, “You do realize I come from a culture obsessed with weapons. Why do you think we have so many Tal-Vashoth mercenary groups?” he stated, his tone light and joking. “I mean, aside from the fact that most of them seem to have been Beresaad -- a military class -- when they defected from the Qun, or at least some similar position anyways.” Cassandra paused, turning her head to look up at the man, “I apologize; it was wrong of me to assume your ignorance in such matters.” She said in that cute way she had when she was trying to be sincere. Gert shrugged his massive shoulders, muscles rippling and catching the gaze of the woman before him, “No harm done, _My Lady Seeker_ ,” he teased, “It’s a fair assumption.” Cassandra tore her eyes away from his rather impressive biceps, “So, did you actually have a reason to come talk to me?” she inquired. The horned man shook his head, “Not really -- I actually wanted to learn more about you.” He revealed.

The woman looked generally surprised, “ _You do_?” she balked incredulously before recovering, “I mean, you don’t already know?” the Seeker asked suspiciously. Gert laughed, “How would I _‘already know’_ if I’ve never asked?” Cassandra gave him a weary look, “It is just…surprising to run into someone who doesn’t already know my past.” Gert shook his head, “Nah, I don’t know a thing about you.” He stated. Cassandra sighed, “That is somewhat a relief,” she confessed, “The stories surrounding me have gotten to big I hardly recognized myself in them these days.”

“So what’s the story?” the qunari inquired. Cassandra let out another sigh, “When I was a young Seeker I uncovered a plot to assassinate the Divine -- using dragons of all things.” Gert found himself caught off guard at the revelation, “Really? That’s amazing!” he exclaimed loudly, startling the Seeker. But, in true Cassandra fashion she recovered quickly, “Yes, but it was not just me. There were many loyal mages who helped me, who each went back to the Circle with special privileges and commendations.” She explained. “Wow Cass,” The Tal-Vashoth breathed, “You’re just…amazing.” He said again. Cassandra’s brow furrowed, “If you’re being sarcastic, it is not appreciated.” The woman groused. Gert’s eyes widened a fraction with surprise, “Wha? No I’m bein’ genuine here.” He reassured, “Why would you think otherwise?” he asked in genuine confusion. The Seeker rolled her eyes, “The way you and Varric both go on, I assumed you felt the same about me as he does.”

Gert gave her a grin with was all teeth, “I feel many things about you, Lady Seeker,” he flirted, “And I do not believe the dwarf shares them. The only thing we share in that respect is the joy of getting a rise of of you.” Cassandra crossed her arms and looked purposely off to the side, “You jest.” She accused, frowning at the snow covered ground. Gert arched an eyebrow, “Is it really so strange I fancy you?” he inquired. The Seeker huffed and turned her back towards him, “There is…no time for such things now.” She said, rejecting his affections, “We all have work that needs done.” Gert sighed, his mouth twisting into a mirthful smile, “As you say, Lady Seeker.” He replied, dejectedly walking back into the gates of Haven.

\----

Yasa watched as Gert mope into his stew from across the table from her.

Her lips were twisted into an irritated frown as she watched him twirl his spoon around in the broth distractedly. “Quit playing with you food.” She snapped at him, drawing the attention of the table’s other occupants to the younger Adaar. Gert’s posture stiffed as he noticed that all eyes were now suddenly on him. “Lay off.” He muttered, hunching back over his bowl. “What’s crawled up your arse?” Sera interjected bluntly from Yasa’s side. Varric too peered at the large man curiously, “C’mon now, Lover Boy,” the dwarf coaxed, “Something is obviously bothering you.”

The benched groaned as Bull plopped down beside Gert, “He got turned down by Cassandra today.” The Ben-Hassrath explained, earning a mournful look from the younger qunari. Yasa scoffed, “Are you serious?” she snorted disdainfully, “That’s your problem?” Gert glared at his sister, “Shut it up, Yas.” He muttered once more. Varric looked far too excited then one should, “The Seeker turned you down?” he repeated in disbelief, “And after all those looks of longing she throws at you? Damn, that’s cold even for her.” Gert perked up at this bit of information, “You _serious_? She looks at me like that?” he asked hopefully. Bull snorted from his side, “ _‘You serious?’_ ” he mimicked poorly, “Have you _seriously_ not noticed?” Gert just grinned, “That means I’ve still got a shot then. Maybe once this is all over.” He mumbled, rubbing a hand over the base of one of his horns thoughtfully. Yasa stood from her seat, nose wrinkled in displeasure, “I am leaving, this conversation is foolish.”

Gert shot her another glare, “Maker’s balls, you’re such a wet blanket.” He proclaimed crossly. Yasa narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing as she turned and left the tavern.

\----

The snow crunched under Yasa’s feet as she made her way back to her cabin. There was a hole in the sky and these idiots were worried about their prospective romances? She ran a hand over the ends of one of her shattered horns, pushing open the cabin’s door. A fire had already been lit in the fireplace, bringing a welcomed warm relief from the frigid air outside. An inconspicuous package wrapped in plain brown paper resting atop her bed caught her attention quickly. The Tal-Vashoth woman arched an eyebrow, taking the folded note attached to the box, quickly reading the elegant flourish.

_Dear Lady Adaar,_

_I overheard that you were running out of the substance you use for you vitaar and I took it upon myself to procure some more. I hope this was not too forward, and I am very sorry if it is not genuine._

_Yours,_

_Josephine_

Yasa raised her eyebrows in silent surprise, stunned as she neatly tore the paper off the box. Inside the simple wooden container lay two carefully packed jars of glittering, golden vitaar. The qunari had only seen vitaar of this high quality once in her life. Once when she was guarding a caravan bound for Tevinter, an actual squad Qunari ambushed them as soon as they got over the border. She found herself on that day foolishly envious of the excellence of the enemy’s vitaar as they clashed swords and she cut them down. Later, she chalked it up as a frivolousness she could not dare afford in her line of work. The contents of the jar in her hand glittered marvelously in the low light, snapping the woman from her wandering thoughts. Yasa found herself suddenly reminding her of the golden accents on the clothes her kind-hearted Ambassador preferred as she gazed at the jar in her palm.

The Tal-Vashoth woman balked and nearly dropped the jar onto the floor.

 _Her_ Ambassador? How was Josephine her’s in any way, shape, or form?

The two had a tentative relationship, with mild flirting on the part of both parties. But there had been no declarations -- no talk of a _relationship_ between them certainly. Yasa placed the jar gently back into the box next to its partner, rubbing her palm over her forehead in frustration. What right did she have to tell Gert not to pursue Cassandra, calling him foolish, when she was doing exactly the same thing? With a heavy sigh she closed the lid on the box, tucking it neatly under her bed. She sat down atop the sheets, listening as the bed groaned and creaked from her weight and buried her head in her hands miserably. 


	6. haven gets 'dwayne "the rock" johnson'ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where haven get rocked, and gets rocked /hard/

It was chaos and panic.

People rushed past her towards the Chantry for sanctuary as the Venatori mages closed in on Haven. Her lungs burned as she sucked the in the winter air in frantic breaths, hands tightening their grip on the hilt of her greatsword. “Shit.” Bull breathed from her side, Varric muttering in agreement as they watched the enemy descend in droves from the hills. Yasa’s body ached in protest as she moved, still drained of the energy required to close the Breach. Cullen was holding up the battered Tevinter mage -- Dorian -- who had rushed ahead to warn them, looked to her for direction. The Tal-Vashoth frowned, “We need to get those trebuchets loaded,” she stated, “And the non-combatants out of here.” The former templar nodded, “I agree,” he replied, twisting around to command his troops, “You heard the Herald!” he shouted, “Get to it.” Yasa nodded to him as he helped the injured mage into the gates of Haven, leaving her in command of their army.

Cole appeared at her side, “He’s angry,” the boy said, “You took his templars. He’s going to kill you.” Yasa narrowed her eyes at the abomination standing beside the mage woman atop the highest hill, “He can try.” She ground before turning to her companions, “Cole, help get people to the Chantry with Gert.” The younger Adaar looked to protest but she silenced him with a look, “Varric and Sera pick them off at range and keep enemies away from the trebuchets. Solas and Vivienne you work on barriers and suppressing magic.” The grey dark woman turned to the rest, “Cassandra, Bull, and Blackwall,” she addressed the warriors, “We’ll take point.” The three nodded in acknowledgement, drawing their weapons.

\----

Yasa stared down the approaching horror as the dragon separated her from her companions. Their original plan was to distract the creature so the refugees had time to escape through the Chantry, though now she found herself facing the abomination alone. She kept her peripheral vision focused on the mountains, waiting for the flare to appear. “You are a mistake.” the horrid creature stated, his tone matter-of-fact. “You are neither holy nor bless, and you have taken something that belongs to _me_.” Yasa squared her shoulders in defiance, “Come and claim it then.” She challenged boldly. The looming horror looked rather amused at her insolence, “That was my intention.” He stated as he raised his hand to pull at her mark with his magic. Pain ripped through her arm, “Fuck!” she shouted, gripping her wrist tightly as she dropped to her knees. Suddenly the creature was above her, hauling the Tal-Vashoth up by her arm, “You’ve spoiled it in your stumblings.” he stated in disdain, “Pity.”

The monster shook his head and tossed her effortlessly to the side, her back colliding with the wood of the trebuchet. “No matter,” he continued, “I will find another way, but I will not suffer an unknowing rival, no matter how irrelevant and powerless you actually are.” Yasa grit her teeth through the pain as she pulled herself up, “Fuck you.” She snarled at him. Her nails bit into the wood behind her in an attempt to keep herself upright; her body screaming from the strain to stay on two feet. She sputtered a cough as she watched the creature as he monologue, turning her head and spitting blood crudely into the snow. The light of a flare caught her eye in between the mountains, signaling the refugees had made it out safely on the hidden path. She quickly lunged for a discarded long-sword, holding it before her in defense, “You’re arrogant,” she snarled, “Good to know!” The qunari gave a hard kick to the chain of the trebuchet, sending its load fly into the mountains. Yasa saw the creature sneering at her as she ran from the oncoming avalanche, his twisted face the last thing she saw before tumbling down an open shaft and her world going dark.

\----

The first thing Yasa felt was pain. Radiating pain.

The Tal-Vashoth groaned as she forced her eyes opened, revealing she had landed in the abandoned tunnels below the village. With great effort she pushed herself up into a sitting position, noticing that her mark was glowing brighter than it had before, even in the dimness of the cavern. But she disregarded it for the moment as she forced herself to her feet. “Fuck.” She groaned, noticing that her sword was missing. “Bloody perfect.” She groused tiredly, standing shakily.

The woman followed the tunnels for a time, eventually arriving at an exit that lead out into the snowy landscape. Piercing, frigid wind blew forcefully against Yasa’s face as she trudged through the thick mountain snow. She wrapped her numb limbs tightly around to her torso in a feeble attempt to keep warm, occasionally breathing into her hands, seeking to warm them. Wolves howled in the distance, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise in alarm. The qunari searched the tree line for the glowing eyes of the predators, but found none. Yasa sighed tiredly, lifting her head to see light reflecting off the side of one of the surrounding mountain faces. “Finally.” She breathed in relief, changing her course to head towards the light’s source.

Eventually the howling wind stopped, allowing her to move at a faster pace. She glanced at an abandoned campfire, “Embers,” she muttered to herself, “Recent?” The woman shook her head, pushing herself up the small incline ahead in long, tired strides. A few times she lost her footing, causing her to plant face first into the snow. Yasa eventually found she was ready to lay there and freeze to death until the sounds of echoing voices caught her ears. With the little strength she had left the Tal-Vashoth dragged herself up the rest of the hill. “There she is!” a voice called. Yasa fell back into the snow, then vaguely felt hands groping to lift her. “Stay awake!” the same voice hissed. The qunari’s eyes remained shut as she had no energy to give a proper response, merely grunting in response to the voice. “Fool.” They said as she was lifted from the ground by many pairs of hands. Yasa felt unconsciousness clawing at her mind and was unable to stop herself from giving into it.

\----

Where ever she was now, she was warm.

The crackling of fire caught her attention as she return to awareness. A soft hand was gliding over the plains of her face, whispering comforting foreign words. Yasa cracked open one of her eyes, meeting the peering gaze of Josephine. The Ambassador’s hand drew back abruptly, cheeks flushing prettily, “Mistress Adaar!” she gasped, “I am so sorry!” Yasa chuckled, her mind still groggy, “You’re beautiful, you know.” She muttered as her eye slipped shut once more. Josephine made an ‘eep’ sort of noise, “M-Mistress Adaar, the healers have put you on high doses of potions,” she explained, flustered, “I’m afraid your thoughts may be clouded at the moment.” The dark grey woman chuckled again, “I may not be able to feel m’ limbs, but I’m not lyin’ when I say yer beautiful.” She replied, a very distinct Free Marches accent slipping through and making itself known -- something her brother still seemed to possess.  Josephine scoffed, “You need to rest,” she insisted, “You’ve been through a lot.”

Yasa laughed, grimacing at the pain it caused, “Yeah, ya’ could say that.” She agreed. The two sat in silence for a moment, Josephine assuming the qunari had slipped back into slumber. The Antivan stood to leave, stopping at Yasa’s voice, “Did everyone make it?” the horned woman whispered hoarsely. Josephine looked back at her, “Yes, mostly everyone -- thanks to you.” She answered, unable to keep away the fond smile rising on her lips. Yasa made a noise of acknowledgement before drifting back to sleep. Josephine looked upon the large woman’s sleeping form, amazed that she had made it out of that fight. “You’re amazing,” the Ambassador whispered breathlessly, “How have I seemed to have caught your eye?” she wondered before shaking her head and exiting the tent.

It was the cold that woke Yasa later. The frigid air chilling the metal of her nose piercing that lay flat against the skin above her lips. The qunari frowned as she slowly cracked her eyes open, greeted with the sight of a canvas roof. Cold mountain wind blew over her, sending the woman further under her blankets. The distant sounds of arguing reached her began to reach her after a moment as she huddled beneath her blankets.

“We can’t do _nothing_.” Yasa heard Cullen shout, clearly frustrated. An almost snarl followed, “No one is saying that!” Leliana stated angrily. The Tal-Vashoth sighed wearily, sitting up slowly due to the aching pain in her limbs and joints. “Good to see yer still alive,” A voice said from beside her, “Would be a shame if I had to write Ma and Da and tell ‘em yer dead.” Yasa winced at his loudness, rubbing her head in an attempt to ease the oncoming headache, “Gert.” She greeted gruffly. The larger man snorted, “That’s all you’ve got to say? No: ‘So I attempted to fight a giant monster one on one and let it kill me and I fucked up’ or maybe a ‘Sorry little brother for leaving you behind for the hundredth time’?” Yasa rolled her eyes, but said nothing turning to look out at the arguing advisors.

“So what? You’re just gonna ignore me?! Yasa this is bullshit!” the younger Adaar yelled, “You’re an idiot, you really are! You think you can take on the world by yourself in some stupid attempt to protect me and everyone else!” Gert ranted, drawing the attention of a few nearby refugees. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed dangerously, “Or at least don’t speak in Common -- these people don’t need to hear this! They’ve been through enough.” Gert soften for a moment as he looked out at the huddles of people, but scoffed when he turned his attention back to her, “ _Venak hol_.” He muttered at her before standing and leaving the tented area.  Yasa watched her brother go, her face painted in a scowl, “ _Imekari_.” She whispered back with a snort.

Looking across the camp Yasa caught Josephine’s eye and nodded to her. The Antivan flushed prettily but looked away quickly, appearing to attempt to focus on anything beside the qunari woman. Yasa frowned, something she had done or said had clearly upset the small human and she was going to find out what, if only to apologize.

\----

Settling everyone and everything into Skyhold had become Josephine’s main job. The castle was an absolute mess on the inside, making structural construction a top priority. The Antivan brought in architects from Orlais and Ferelden, having them collaborate to fix the fortress properly. Josephine sat behind her desk, slipping at tea that had long gone cold and looking over several trade contracts from a few Ferelden merchants. The door opened and the steady footsteps making their way towards her broke her attention of the parchment in her hands. Yasa all but loomed over her desk -- more a product of her height then trying to be intimidating, at least at the moment -- the dark grey woman did love intimidating people whenever the opportunity presented itself. But the Tal-Vashoth seemed to treat Josephine special; all her usually hostility reserved for, well, everyone else.

“Lady Montilyet.” She greeted. The smaller woman smiled up at her, “Good day, my Lady Inquisitor,” she returned, noting the scowl on the qunari’s face at the use of her new title, “How may I assist you?” she inquired. “You’ve been avoiding me.” The Tal-Vashoth stated bluntly, pinning the smaller women in an intense violet gaze. Josephine fidgeted in her seat, “Ah, I apologize if it seems that way,” she began, “I have been terribly busy since we’ve moved into Skyhold.” Yasa crossed her arms across her chest, “Horseshit,” she replied harshly before softening, “I’ve done something to offend you, haven’t I?” she asked quietly, looking off to the side gloomily and angry at herself. Josephine blinked in honest surprise, “Oh! No, of course not!” she assured, shooting out of her chair, “It’s nothing you have done, my lady.” Yasa tilted her horned head slightly, her usual scowl finding its way back onto her face, “Then what’s wrong?”

The diplomat sighed as she stared down at her hands, “I’m just…I was _so_ worried about you and when I saw them hauling your body into the camp I was _completely terrified_ that you were dead -- that you were gone.” The woman smooth a hand over a stray sheet of parchment on her desk, “You faced that monster all on your own and still somehow made it back to us, I am just so…I mean--” Josie gasped as she found her face cradled in two large hands, guiding her head to look up at the towering qunari, “I’m sorry,” Yasa said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry for worrying you, _kadan_. No matter what happens, know I will always fight to come back here -- to you.” Yasa confessed. The diplomat felt tears leak from the corners of her eyes, “I forgive you.” She replied, leaning her cheek into the warm, callused palms of the warrior. Yasa smiled down at her, a warmth Josephine had never seen filling the woman’s eyes, “That is good to hear,” the qunari said, the corner of her eyes crinkling as her smiled widened, “I could not bare your scorn, Lady Montilyet.” She teased, her voice husky. Josie flushed but smiled, “My scorn is not something to be reckoned with,” she teased back, “Be sure you never find yourself on the receiving end.” Yasa chuckled, leaning down to where their noses practically touched, “I’ll keep that in mind.” She breathed.

Josephine trembled in her grasp, her eyes slipping shut as she anticipated the inevitable feeling of the qunari’s lips on hers. The pair jumped apart as Josephine’s door swung open, “Inquisitor, are you in here?” called Cullen. “Yes, what do you want?” the woman snapped in irritation.

The mood had been officially ruined.

The Commander continued to shuffle through the papers in his hands, “Might we convene in the War Room?” he suggested, finally looking up at the two women. The blonde man looked back and forward between them, “Was I, interrupting something?” he asked suspiciously. “It is fine Commander, come along.” Josie said, leading the way and smiling to herself as she heard Yasa grumbling dejectedly behind her. It was not until later that night, right as Josephine was falling asleep that something finally registered, “What does ‘ _kadan_ ’ mean?” she wondered aloud, blinking owlishly up at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunlat Translations:  
> Imekari: Child.  
> Venak hol: "Wearying one." A mild insult.  
> Kadan: You all know what this means.


	7. everyone talks and feelings happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfw when no gf is finally lifted for gert  
> then yasa and krem have a long serious conversation about tal-vashoth and the qun
> 
> also yasa admits bull is her friend

Yasa found her younger brother glowering at her as he leaned broodily against some of the scaffolding in the Main Hall. The large woman shifted in her throne -- though she preferred not to refer to the over embellished chair as such -- as she listened to a lesser Orlesian noble appeal to the Inquisition for some favor or another. Yasa held back her sigh, turning her attention to her Ambassador -- her kadan. Josephine, unlike herself, was listening diligently. The woman was taking notes every so often with quick and precise quill strokes, eyes focused on the pleading man. Yasa was glad someone was paying attention for she certainly was not -- Josephine was just far too distractingly beautiful for her own good. But the Tal-Vashoth found herself switching her attention between the object of her affections to her brooding brother -- Gert’s eyes boring into her were proving to be another distraction.

“What do you think, Inquisitor Adaar?” Josephine asked suddenly, bringing Yasa’s attention back to the matter at hand. The large woman blink twice, “I, um…” The qunari trailed off, having the good sense to look sheepish due to the annoyed look on her Ambassador’s face. “I believe the Inquisitor needs some time to review the issues.” Josephine covered quickly, “We shall convene and discuss the matter, then have an answer for you tomorrow.” The noble, who appeared irritated at the verdict, was led away. “I believe the Inquisitor wishes to retire, all remaining matters will be taken care of in the morning.” Josephine decreed, motioning for the court to clear. Yasa stood, her back aching from the smallness of the chair. An order for a larger throne had been requisitioned, but was not yet complete. Josephine raised an eyebrow at her, “I am aware this is not what you’re used to, but could you please try and pay attention?” Coming from anyone else Yasa would have snapped, but the tiny woman had wormed her way into her heart. The larger woman dipped her head, “Of course, kadan.” She rumbled obediently. Josephine gave her an inquiring, thoughtful look at the use of the endearment, “Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” she queried. Yasa gave a half smile, which honestly looked more like she was baring her teeth, “One day.” She replied dismissively.

The qunari felt her brother’s eyes boring into the side of her head from across the room once more, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Montilyet,” she began, “I believe my brother wants a word with me.” The Antivan shifted her gaze to the younger Adaar before looking back to Yasa, “Of course,” she replied, “But later please come to my office to review the matters that were presented in court today.” Yasa nodded, “As you wish.” She muttered softly. Josephine beamed up at the taller woman, sending flutters through the pit of her stomach. Their tentative, blossoming relationship had been moving along slowly over the past few weeks since the almost kiss. Both agreed it was best to keep their fledgling affair on the down low until a more appropriate time to announce it appeared. Though, that did not necessarily mean that no one knew per se. Yasa had already been confronted and threatened by Leliana, and keeping secrets of Cole and Bull was near impossible.

“Well until later then, my lady.” Josephine bid, heading towards her office. Yasa watched her leave, only turning toward the direction of her sibling when the woman finally disappeared behind the door. Yasa squared her shoulders, preparing herself mentally for confrontation. The two had not said more than a couple words to each other since their fight in the camp after Haven. Gert watched her approach, almost identical violet eyes fixing her with a level gaze. “Gert.” She greeted upon reaching him. The large man dipped his head in greeting, “Yasa.” The older Adaar frowned at the use of her whole name -- the other rarely did so. “I can sense you wish to speak with me, due to the fact your eyes were practically burrowing into my skull.” Gert snorted, the hot air fogging up the metal of the loop hanging from his nose, “Just figure that out all on yer own didja?” he snapped moodily. Yasa narrowed her eyes at his attitude, “Follow me.” She grunted, grabbing his arm to pull him into the passage and down the stairs to a more private area.

Gert yanked his arm from her grasp but followed, stopping once they reached Yasa’s chosen destination. The man crossed his massive arms across his chest when she finally turned to him, speaking in a low voice, “What is your problem?” The horned man frowned deeply, “‘ _What’s my problem_ ’ she asks? Maybe that you’ve spent ample time to lecture me on how romance is a waste of time, and then turn around to pursue Josie.” Yasa said nothing in response, her jaw clenched tightly together as he continued. “Honestly Yas, I don’t understand you! I never have!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. Yasa looked away from him, appearing to be struggling with her response, “I was…wrong.” She admitted after a few moments of silence. Gert gaped at her, blinking widely in surprised, “Come again.”

The woman scowled at him, “You heard me -- I will not repeat myself.” Gert cocked an eyebrow, “So that’s it? Ya just turned around and changed yer mind? Just like that?” Yasa nodded, “Yes.” She replied simply, “That’s all it is -- now go and woo Cassandra.” Gert looked at her as if she had just grown another horn, eyebrow still cocked in disbelief. The older Adaar sighed tiredly as the man refused to let the matter drop. “I realized after Haven how horrible things could go for us,” she began, her voice quiet once more, “I don’t want to keep you from some kind of happiness due to my own fears, whether or not I believe they’re justified -- and in turn I am also trying to not keep myself from experiencing the same joy either.” Gert blinked owlishly at his sister, “I- Yas, I mean- ” He tried, stumbling over his words in his shock. The Tal-Vashoth woman waved her hand dismissively, “Don’t worry about it.”

The younger Adaar had not realized extent of effect the attack on Haven had had on his sister. What she had been through and the lengths she had gone to so she could return to them alive. Gert reached over, squeezing the woman’s shoulder, “We okay? Me and you?” he asked. Yasa reached up to give his large hand a squeeze in return, “Of course.” She replied, giving him the hint of a smile. Gert stepped back, grinning largely at her, “Now, If you’ll excuse me,” he began, “I have a Lady Seeker to charm.” Yasa chuckled warmly at her brother’s eagerness, “Don’t let me stop you.” She replied, waving a hand to send him off. Gert nodded to her in appreciation, jogging up the stairs and almost knocking down a few passing servants.

Yasa shook her head slowly; Cassandra was going to have her hands full. Gert had courted many people in the past -- both men and women -- and certainly much more then she ever had. But none were quite like the Seeker. Yasa wondered idly if Gert knew what he was in for with her. Cassandra was not exactly a complicated woman, but she did not present everything at face value. Yasa had seen the woman with nose buried in one of Varric’s novel -- the smutty one in fact. Though the qunari had made no mention of, seeing as the Seeker was allowed to read what she wished, it did seem out of character for the warrior. Perhaps under that tough exterior lie a true romantic, one that wished to be swept off her feet and wooed. Yasa smiled despite herself, turning towards the stairs and making her way back up to the main level of the castle.

\----

“So, my dear Yasa,” Dorian began as they sat with Bull and Sera in the tavern, “A little birdy informed me that you and the Lady Ambassador have become quite close as of late.” Yasa furrowed her brow at him over her mug as she lifted it for a drink, “Is this ‘ _little birdy_ ’ blonde, skinny, and tends to wear outrageously large hats?” she grumbled in annoyance. Dorian was unaffected by the unfriendly tone of her voice, as he was accustomed to her hostile personality by now. “Perhaps.” He replied smugly, his eyes glinting mischievously, “And before you accuse me of prying, the boy simply appeared to me the other night and just told me before disappearing to do whatever it is the lad does.” The qunari flicked her gaze at the ceiling in the direction of Cole’s corner, grumbling something inaudible into the foam of her beer. Sera gave a cheeky grin, “So you and Lady Prissy-Pants an item now, eh? Friggin’ finally I say.” Bull smirked at the elf, “Not only that, I noticed that Little Adaar has begun to go after Cass in full force.” He gave Yasa a knowing look, “What happened to ‘romance is a distraction’ hmm?” Yasa glared at him, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She spat, slamming her mug down onto the table.

Sera climbed over Bull and plopped herself down in Yasa’s lap, “You’re so grumpy all the time,” she teased, pinching the qunari’s cheeks and molding them around in her hands, “Me thinks that Miss Ruffles will be good for ya’.” A few nearby patrons stared in horror as the blonde elf defiled their Herald’s personal space and face. Dorian and Bull laughed as Sera pushed the woman’s cheeks together, her lips puffing out into what resembled a pout, causing the Tal-Vashoth’s scowl to deepen.  Yasa rolled her eyes, grabbing Sera’s wrists and gently pulling the elf’s hands off her face, “Knock it off.” She reprimanded, depositing the elf into the chair next to her. The mage and Qunari across from her leaned against each other as they laughed, Sera joining in and giggling madly beside her. “Laugh it up now,” the woman snapped, “But guess who just got Fallow Mire duty.” She threatened. Dorian stopped laughing immediately, “Now, now let’s not be hasty,” the mage began, hands raised in surrender, “Surely you can find it in your heart to spare us that abomination of a swamp.”

Yasa leaned back smugly in her chair, “Perhaps, if the bribes are right.” Dorian gasped in mock horror, “The holy Herald of Andraste is now taking bribes? Does political corruption know no limits?” The mage gave a woefully sigh, “Though, it does remind me of home. Now I’m homesick, I hope your happy.” The man pouted, though his eyes were lit with laughter. Iron Bull snorted from beside him, elbowing the smaller man in the ribs, “Yeah but, they don’t have men like _me_ in Tevinter.”

\----

Later that night Yasa watched her people flitting around the tavern. Soldiers, scouts, and servants alike were all open and proud with their affections, taken to cuddling and kissing in dimly lit corners. Yasa wanted to be annoyed at the public displays, but all it was doing was reminding her of home. The Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth of the Free Marches Compounds are always free with their affections. It was another way of rebelling against the Qun. She remembered married couples cuddling outside their homes and teenagers fooling around giddily in ‘hidden’ places. The woman’s heart clenched as her thoughts drifted to those of home, finally realizing how long it’s been since she had been back there. Running around with the Val-Kos had kept her busy and away from the Compound for weeks, and often months at a time. Before the Conclave she had not been back home in over six months. Now, having been with the Inquisition for a little over a year, she found herself feeling extremely homesick. She missed the smells of burning incense, elderly qunari sitting in weaving circles and smoking pipes, and small children running barefoot in the marketplace and knocking their sprouting horns together playfully.

But mainly she missed her parents.

Yasa had had regular correspondence with them since Gert’s arrival at Haven those many months ago, but it was not the same. She missed her father’s calming presence and how he always smelled of old books. She missed her mother’s fiery banter and fresh baked sweetrolls. Late nights she would stay up talking with her father in quick hand-signs, discussing the future and how she might fit into it. Yasa sighed woefully into her mug, staring down into the amber brew. The empty chair beside her creaked and stirred her from her reminiscing.

“Your Worship.” greeted Krem as he sat down.

The woman looked over at him and dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Krem.”

The Vint eyed her carefully, “You seems awfully grim.” The mercenary observed. The Vashoth grunted, “Do I?” she replied flatly. Yasa liked Krem -- the two got along famously in fact, but the man had an annoying way of always seeming to know when something was bothering her, and then an even more annoying habit of trying coax it out of her. Deep down Yasa appreciated his concern, but her stubborn pride got in the way of trying to accept it.

Krem cocked an eyebrow at her, as if waiting for her to spill her guts.

_Persistent man._

Yasa frowned at him, before sighing and relenting, “Just…homesick.” She explained elusively. “Ah,” the man replied simply, “That seems to be common occurrence ‘round these parts.” The qunari looked back over at him, studying the man for a moment, “Have you and the Chargers ever been to any of the Compounds in the Free Marches?” she inquired. “The qunari- I mean, Tal-Vashoth compounds? No.” Krem replied, quickly catching and correcting himself on the use of ‘qunari’, “Chief tended to steer clear of them, mainly due to the Ben-Hassrath thing -- out of respect though. He didn’t want to cause trouble for them, or himself and us.” Yasa smiled despite herself, “Sounds like him,” she rumbled in approval, “He’s not what I expected from a Ben-Hassrath agent.” Krem snorted from her side, “Don’t let him hear that, it’ll go straight to his huge head and then the big idiot’ll be twice as obnoxious.” The two shared a laugh, before settling into comfortable silence.

Eventually, Krem spoke up again, “Why’d you ask, by the way? About if we’d been the any of the compounds I mean.” The woman flicker her gaze over to him, “I think you’d like it there,” she began quietly, “More than just Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth live there -- humans, elves, and dwarves as well, though there are more elves then the other two. We do not discriminate against race, gender, or appearance.” The mercenary titled his head in curiosity, “Wow that sounds, well… amazing.” He replied, voice filled with quiet wonderment at the very idea of the existence of such a place. Yasa smiled a small smile; one that was directed far away toward her people and memories, “The Dalish have a saying,” she began, “ _‘We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last elvhen. Never again shall we submit.’_ We -- Vashoth and Tal-Vashoth -- have something similar, spoken when we need the strength to carry on, when we need to remind ourselves of who we are.” Yasa paused, eyes still far away, “ _‘We are freedom, we are choice. Never again shall we be bound by the chains of subjugation’_.” Yasa turned her whole body to face Krem, “Tevinter, the Qunari are both slavers -- power-hungry masters who wish to break those around them and bend them to their will.” She looked over at the Iron Bull, who was laughing loudly as Dorian frowned up at him from his perch the in grey man’s lap, “He has not realized this yet but he will Krem, and it will break him.”

Krem followed her gaze to look at the one-eyed Qunari and then back at Yasa as she spoke again, “I’ve come to care about him,” the woman admitted, albeit begrudgingly, “Despite everything, that idiot’s become my friend, and I know that it’s only a matter of time before the Qunari betray him. Whether he admits it or not he’s been away from the Qun too long, and the Ben-Hassrath know this. For now, he’s still of use to them but they know he’s grown too close to your company and the Inquisition. The moment he fails, they’ll cut him loose.” Yasa let out a long, tired breath, “And I don’t know what will happen to him then.” The man opened his mouth to speak, but Yasa silence him with a raised hand, “But, what I do know,” she continued, “Is that he’ll have you and the Charges. You’ve been his family more than the Qun has and he’ll need you to lean on.” Krem found himself grasping for words, “Your Worship I-” Yasa shook her head, “No need to say anything,” she stated, “I just wanted you to know that -- I just thought you deserved to know.”

Now Krem did not know much about the Qun, Chief usually kept most of it to himself. But after this revelation, he was not sure if the Qun was so great after all. He realized Yasa was extremely bias in her views, but she spoke with such truth it made him wonder. Regardless, if what she said came to pass he knew that he would help his commander no matter what. Yasa stood, breaking him from his thoughts, “I have to go,” she explained, “I was to meet Lady Montilyet this evening.” Krem nodded, a lopsided grinned forming on his lips, “Ah yes of course, Your Worship,” he teased, “Off to see your woman.” Yasa jerked, glaring down at the human, “How do you- of course you know,” she grumbled, “That big idiot can’t keep his mouth shut for shit.” The mercenary laughed, “No he cannot,” the man agreed, “But, I bid you good night, Lady Adaar.” Yasa scowled at the use of the title from him, before shaking her head and heading towards the door.


	8. the worst day ever, and things get a lil heated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's some qunlat:  
> kasaanda: "sundew;" a carnivorous plant  
> parshaara: "enough."
> 
> also, i changed to rating but unfortunately it doesn't actually apply to this chapter  
> i know, i'm disappointed too

Yasa suppressed a relieved sigh as her team dragged themselves back through the gates of the fortress.

Her mission in the Emerald Graves had yielded more questions than answers, and left her in a stalemate. It was difficult to try and help the refugees when she was being hurled into rocks by pride demons and ambushed by the Freemen every two minutes. Even with her recently acquired templar talents, the demons still beat her bloody. While Vivienne had healed the worst of their injuries, Yasa was still sporting a black-eye from a scrap with a large Freeman warrior wielding a maul. She dismounted her dracolisk and pulled of her gauntlet off to pet the beast. The woman rubbed her hand affectionately along its scaly snout; carefully minding the jutting, pointed teeth. The beast gazed at her, flaring its nostrils and warming her passing hand with a burst of hot air and angling to nip playfully at her fingertips when they go too close.

Yasa could not help but grin at the beast’s action, reaching up to tug one of its horns playfully, “Parshaara, Kasaanda.” She scolded lightly as the beast butted its head into her chest. Young stable boys ran up to the group to relieve them of their mounts, gazing warily at the dracolisk. Yasa shook her head, “I will take him.” The boys nodded graciously, “Many thanks, Lady Inquisitor.” One said. The Tal-Vashoth nodded to them, “Think nothing of it,” she replied casually, almost icily, “Kasaanda only responds to me and Master Dennet. I have no wish for either of you to lose a limb or finger.”

The young boys exchanged a nervous look, but nodded dutifully and skittered off with her group’s horses and harts. “We dismissed then, Your Gracious Ladybits?” Sera inquired, shifting impatiently from foot to foot and giving sidelong glances toward Herald’s Rest. The large woman nodded, “Of course. But, Cullen will want your reports as soon as possible.” She replied, taking her mount by the reins and pulling him towards the stable; stifling a smile at the groan of unison from the less distinguished members of her Inner Circle.

Once in the stables, she unsaddled the beast and rubbed his scales down with a damp cloth to wash away the dirt and dust that had collected underneath the saddle and blanket. Yasa unfastened the halter and pulled the reins from his head, earning an appreciative snort from the creature. The woman patted the dracolisk a few times on his tough hide and left the sables in hopes of being able to get cleaned up as well. The main hall was quiet, no bustling nobles eager to meet with her -- which was welcomed a relief. Too often did she find herself stinking of the road and its toils while some haughty, privileged human wagged a finger in her face; all the while still having the audacity to ask for favors from the Inquisition.  

 As Yasa passed Josephine’s door, she paused and gave it a meaningful look. The qunari wished to visit her kadan, but she did think the other woman would appreciate the grime and smell of sweat currently radiating from her person. The door opened before she could continue towards her quarters, revealing the focus of her affections. The woman’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, though she was trying desperately to hide it and keep her usual composure. Their eyes met, and the human look startled by her presence. “Lady Adaar…” She began, trailing off as she seemed to find nothing meaningful to say nor an excuse to give for her disheveled appearance. Yasa frowned, motioning for them to speak in the Ambassador’s office.

\----

Josie looked nervous as she stared up at the larger woman once they stood facing each other in the center of them room. “What’s wrong?” Yasa asked, finding no reason to beat around the bush. Something was clearly upsetting her kadan and she wanted to know what. “I received a letter from my mother.” the woman began, her voice wobbly with emotion. “I am to be married off to Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva.” Yasa felt her entire body tense at the revelation, shock jolting through her as though she had been struck by lightning. “I am looking into every option to annul this,” the Antivan explained quickly, “But for now we must be careful…and not be too affectionate with one another in public.” Josephine’s voice sounded tired and defeated; she was clearly and understandably overwhelmed by their current circumstances.  The larger woman could find no words, her body locked into place. The Ambassador looked up into her eyes, “Please,” she pleaded, “Say _something_.” Yasa wordless reached out for the woman in a panic, her gauntlet cover hands gripping at Josephine’s shoulders.

_She’s leaving, she’s leaving._

Those two words had been replaying in her head over and over.

_I’m not good enough -- I’m just an oxman. She’s too soft, too small. I’ve scared her._

Joise raised her hand up, cupping Yasa’s cheek tentatively, as not to startle the woman. The Antivan read the panic on her love’s face, her heart clenching painfully at the expression. Yasa slowly met her eyes, “K-Kadan.” She gasped through a shuddering breath and crushed Josephine to her chest, forgetting she was still in her heavy armor. Sense had begun to set in as she processed everything the smaller woman had said.

_She’s not leaving -- she’s trying to annul it. She loves you. She’s not leaving._

_By my sword I hope she loves me._

The Ambassador did not seem to mind the Vashoth’s desperate grip though, settling to rest her palm flat against the cool metal adorning the woman’s chest, “I will fix this -- I will not leave you. Trust me, my darling.” Yasa released the woman slowly, her hand moving down to rest on the other woman’s waist. Josephine laughed mirthlessly, “I am sorry to keep putting you through this. First, with the assassins who were after me, now this of all things?” The woman shook her head woefully, “And just as I was about to write my parents and announce our courtship to them. I am such a mess and a burden to you when you’ve got the fate of the world resting on your shoulders. I am truly sorry, my love.” 

The assassination attempt on the woman’s life had put Yasa through stress she did not even know she could experience. Constant paranoia had plagued her days, eventually leading her to deciding to let Leliana take care of it; despite Josephine’s protests. “I know you can handle it,” Yasa had said, her voice boarding on desperate at that point, “I have no doubt. But your safety matters more -- I can’t even think about what I’d do if they tried something and no one was here to stop them. Please kadan, let Leliana help.” Josephine eventually agreed, and Yasa promised to make it up to her somehow. She understood her love’s stance on violence, but these people would use it against her and she could not let that happen.

Yasa shook her head and brought herself out of her musings, loose ebony locks falling from her bun, “Never.” The Tal-Vashoth insisted fiercely, “You’re never a burden to me. Not now, not in a hundred years.” Josephine gasped as Yasa kissed her with such passion she swooned. Her hands reached up to tangle in the qunari’s already disheveled hair, fingernail ghosting over the skin where her horns grew. Yasa growled against her lips, lifting the woman up and depositing her onto her desk. Yasa’s lips moved to her jaw and neck, her hand clenching the fabric at the small of Josie’s back as the woman arched into her. Josephine moaned quietly as Yasa test her teeth against the skin on her throat, leaving playful nips before the Antivan grabbed the Vashoth by the horns and pulled her head up for another kiss.

Yasa made a rumble of approval, sliding their lips together lazily. Josie opened her legs, pulling the larger woman closer to her, “Yasa, Yasa, Yasa.” She chanted between kisses, as if the qunari’s name were a holy verse in the Chant of Light. Yasa eventually pulled away, her violet eyes searching the dark one’s of the Ambassador, “I love you,” she stated, her voice heavy with devotion, “And I won’t let any pompous noble take you from me, unless that is your wish. I would leave right now if you told me to go -- I would deliver you the world if only you commanded it of me.” Josephine shuddered in arousal at the confession, “Maker’s breath,” She whispered through a quivering lips, “I love you too. I want you and only you.” Yasa’s eye lit up in part happiness, part relief. “Kadan,” she breathed affectionately, “My beautiful kadan.”

Josephine began to bubble with laughter, grabbing the woman’s face with both had and bringing their lips together once more. Yasa happily obliged her love, pulling the woman as close as physically possible with the barrier of her armor in the way. Josie whine against her lip and pulled back a fraction, “You’re always wearing too much armor.” she breathed, “I want to feel you against me properly.” Yasa chuckled at her eagerness, “I would remove it, though I feel this place is much to _public_ for such a thing.” Josephine cheek’s puffed out indignantly, her beautiful swollen lips twisting into a pout. “Fine.” She relented, reluctantly dislodging herself from the qunari, “But I expected this be continued _right_ _after_ I’ve broken this engagement. And I mean _right after_ , Yasa Adaar.”

The Vashoth smirked down at the woman, “If that is your wish.”  


End file.
